


New Beginnings

by KyaniteD



Category: The Devil Wears Prada (2006)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-12
Updated: 2015-01-12
Packaged: 2018-03-07 05:47:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3163511
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KyaniteD/pseuds/KyaniteD
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Emily has a special visitor while she's in the hospital.</p>
            </blockquote>





	New Beginnings

**Author's Note:**

> _Inspired by a_ [_wallpaper_](http://radak.livejournal.com/195015.html)

Emily hated hospitals. They smelled of sickness and patheticness. They were decorated in light colors or - god forbid - plain white and there was nothing stylish or hip in, on or about hospitals. The hallways were lined with cheery, cheesy photographs and scrawly children's drawings. The staff consisted of morons with bedside manners better suited for drill sergeants in army boot camps and the food was as disgusting as fat and carbs could get; not that she'd planned on eating much, anyway, but if they forced her to eat three meals a day, couldn't it at least be tasty?

Hospitals were sucking off one's brain and dignity 10 seconds into the stay or visit, whatever it was. They were _bloody hell_. At least she'd been granted her single corner room with street view. It made the whole experience not exactly bearable but at least slightly less horrible.

Until Andrea had come to see her. It was a nightmare.

The brunette hadn't been gloating, but Emily had seen the silent signs of barely contained excitement underneath the facade of compassion and dignity-eating pity. And the really worst thing was that she couldn't blame Andy for feeling that way, for being excited and looking forward to a trip and experience so many, so _very many_ people could only dream of. 

She knew that nothing of what had happened had been Andy's fault; if she wanted to blame somebody she had to be honest and blame herself. She had gotten careless. She had underestimated Andy, underestimated Miranda, and underestimated the whole situation. She had thought herself and her position safe when she should have been more alert than ever before.

 _Smart, fat girl_ , Miranda had said. _Smart!_ She deserved to be in a pathetic hospital room, with a pathetically broken leg and an even more pathetic _cold_. She sniffled and reached for the box of Kleenex.

She hated this. She hated herself for letting her guard down, hated the hospital for exposing her even more and hated life in general for being so goddamn unfair.

She could never hate Miranda. Or Andy. Not really. But dammit! She wanted to stomp her foot at the injustice of it all, but even that was denied her and she felt like somewhere some nasty troll must be having a dirty chuckle at her expense.

Without a warning the door to her room suddenly opened and she was ready to throw a half-eaten donut if that was yet another nurse trying to take her temperature and adjust her leg's position 'for more comfort'. She needed some privacy to stew in the oddly satisfying mix of self-pity and anger. It was another one of those annoying things about hospitals - to be told to get some rest but never being left alone for more than an hour.

But to her surprise a familiar face appeared in the opened door, and her anger almost instantly subsided. It was difficult to stay angry at the world when the subconscious forced a smile on your face.

"Go away," she growled and tried to look angry but only managed a pout.

Serena smiled indulgently. "My, my, having a bad day, huh?" She closed the door and walked around the bed to sit on the windowsill in almost the same spot Andy had occupied the day before.

"Look at me and ask again. What do you think?" Emily threw up her arms and immediately winced as the movement caused her leg to shift. "Of course I'm having a bad day. - No, I'm having a bad week actually! Month! Life!!" Her hands fell back onto the bed. "Jesus, Serena, how could you even ask?" her shoulders sagged. "It's all over."

She expected to hear some of those ridiculous, meaningless encouragements people come up with only in hospitals, but Serena remained silent.

"You're supposed to cheer me up, you know." And then she noticed the flower in the other woman's hand. "I feel even more ridiculous, like I'm the clown here. If you're not here to cheer me up, why are you here?" She nodded her head toward the flower. "And what's the gras for?"

Serena smiled - a bit sadly, Emily thought - and twirled the flower between her fingers. "It's a white rose, and it's for you, if you want it."

Emily eyed the flower with suspicion. "Don't these things usually have a meaning?" Serena was acting weird and it was not fair, because she was trapped in the hospital bed and couldn't get away from the weirdness if she needed to.

"I'm not sure." Serena just shrugged her shoulders. "It's pretty. I liked it. I thought you might like it, too."

"Okay. So you just came here to bring me one white rose you thought was pretty? I'm calling bollocks. Why are you really here?" Emily's strategy was to get it it over with as soon as possible. There were still some hours left until dinner and she hoped to get some real rest.

Serena watched the flower moving between her fingers. "Miranda found a replacement."

This was Serena's reason for come to the hospital? "Of course, she'll need someone at the office when Andy is with her in Paris and I'm stuck here with a broken leg."

"No, Em." Serena looked at her through her glasses and suddenly she appeared very stern and serious. "It looks quite permanent."

"What? She fired me?!"

"Not yet, but it looks like she will. I know her, she's considering it." 

"Oh my god, no," Emily shook her head, "this can't be happening. Tell me this isn't happening. I can't lose my job. How can you be so cool about it? Andy would at least try to look like she's sorry for me."

"I'm not looking sorry because I am not sorry." The shocks crashed in waves over her head and she was sure the whole world was conspiring against her now. Maybe this was finally the sign she had been dreading, the one that told her in an unmistakable language to go home to London.

"And I'm not sorry because I think it might be a good thing. You would never quit on your own, but you need to get away. It's destroying you. The real you." That was quite some assessment way out of the left field and Emily was at a loss for words. Almost.

"It didn't destroy you, and now you're junior editor at the beauty department."

Serena moved over to sit on the bed. "I am me, Emily, and you are you. You need to get out if you want to live." She was a little bit too close for Emily's comfort, but apparently she had something to say and wasn't finished yet. Emily wasn't sure she wanted to hear it as much as she had the feeling she needed to hear it.

"I've been waiting for you to wake up, Em, but it seems like you are already too far gone."

"What do you mean? Wake up from what?"

"Wake up _to_ what. To reality." And suddenly Serena was holding one of Emily's bruised hands. "Look at yourself, how lucky you have been. This accident could have killed you. Or it could have left you crippled for life."

Emily pulled her hand away and it tingled for a moment. "Could you be a bit less cryptic? What are you talking about? What's all this got to do with you?"

"It woke me up, Em." She rubbed her temple . "I think... Em, I had crush on you for quite some time but I was too busy creating facades to do anything about it."

Emily didn't know what to say and just raised a questioning eyebrow instead.

"What I'm talking about is what else life has to offer. Like love." She shrugged her shoulders. "Maybe me."

She put the flower on the bed and pulled a business card from her pocket. "There's also someone who saw your designs and wants to meet you about a possible job. Don't let her wait too long, she's a crazy old woman with no patience whatsoever."

And with that she got up and left.  
Emily's head was spinning. It was too much to process.

By the time she had made up her mind it was too late to push the call button and have the staff try to stop Serena. She hated this. She hated the hospital, she hated her broken leg and she hated-- well no, she didn't hate Serena, but she was very furious with her for leaving the way she did.

She picked up the business card. _Vivienne Westwood Studios_. She briefly wondered if Serena would go to London with her.

Then she decided to use the call button after all, and a woman in her late fifties entered the room, frowning at the empty donut box.

"Nurse Johnson, do you know what's the meaning of a white rose?"


End file.
